


Chemicals Collide

by jouissant



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Anal Play, Aphrodisiacs, Drugged Sex, F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/pseuds/jouissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has lots of ideas. Gaila's perspective on this one runs a little deeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemicals Collide

**Author's Note:**

> For kink_bingo, for my "drugs/aphrodisiacs" square

"Are you positive about this? Because, if you aren't, you need to tell me now."

Jim nods quickly. "Yep. Positive. 100% positive."

"I just need to be sure. You won't be able to tell me no. Later, that is."

Later, if all goes according to plan, Jim will meet her in her quarters. He'll knock, or he'll key in his access code, but either way he'll be checking his sobriety at the door.

***

She doesn't really think much about her pheromone suppressants these days. The little baby-blue pills that she collects from Sickbay are generally dispensed with a pithy comment from Chapel. "Wish I needed these," she says, shaking the bottle with a put-upon sigh that's the same every month. "Must be nice to have to beat 'em off with a stick." Gaila likes Christine, knows she doesn't mean it as anything more than a joke, but her politely faked laugh at the remark has diminished over time, first to a wan smile, then to a shrug, then to nothing.

No, you don't, is what she wants to say.

Instead, she takes the bottle from Chapel and keys her signature into the prescription log. The program asks her if she has questions for the pharmacy computer. She does not.

Gaila's heard a lot about what it means, this strange biochemical power she has. She remembers her mother anointing her pulse points with oil meant to amplify its effects, skin gleaming in the firelight. (She isn't really Gaila's mother, of course. There are other words in Standard that probably come closer to describing what she is, but Gaila is used to human sensibilities by now, so she sticks with 'mother'. Easier for everyone that way.)

Gaila's mother dabs the oil at her wrists and smiles seductively at herself in the mirror, practicing. She finds Gaila's eyes, watching her in the glass, and sticks out her tongue.   
When she gets up to leave, gold mail clinking, she swipes at Gaila's forehead with a thumb. Alone with the mirror, Gaila watches the oily smear glisten like a third eye.

"This," her mother says. "This is your power. This is your way."

Way to what? Gaila wonders privately.

Ten years on and light years from that smoky room, she still doesn't know.

She's among the first Orions to enroll in Starfleet, and the doctor who gives her her enlistment physical wears a mask. When she's finished, she presses the prescription into Gaila's hand and sends her on her way. "You be sure and get that filled," she says. As if Gaila wouldn't. On the shuttle to San Francisco she swallows the first pill and closes her eyes, listening to the hum of the engines. The recruit next to her leans in as the shuttle lurches, pink skin pressing against Gaila's green, and she hopes the drug kicks in soon. The HVAC unit in the shuttle is malfunctioning, and the human's sweat stinks.

At the Academy, she watches men and women walk right past her without a second glance, and she's relieved. She begins to know, then, the pleasure of catching someone looking, of knowing that they're seeing _her_. She begins to know the pleasure of looking back. The men who visited Gaila's mother had heavy-lidded, glassy eyes from too much time in overheated Syndicate smoke-houses. They looked lazily at her sisters' bodies before returning to their pipes.

When Jim Kirk holds up his hand in greeting and smiles at her, all she can see is his eyes, wide open, blue, and clear.

Today, contemplating her pill, she thinks it might not be so bad to see those eyes lose focus, go hazy with desire. She snaps the cap back on decisively and puts the bottle away.

You can't really smell pheromones, but she feels like there should be some sort of olfactory special effects anyway. She lights the only kind of incense Jim isn't allergic to, dabs perfume at her wrists and throat. She imagines her mother in the mirror, watching her with a discerning eye. She'd approve, thinks Gaila. She puckers into the glass, cups her breasts and squeezes. They'd line _up_ for this. And they would, pockets lined. But she's here, now, and she's free. Otherwise, she knows the room would be too warm, the smells too cloying.

There's a knock, and the computer displays Jim's blurry ID picture on the monitor.   
She takes a deep breath before she opens the door.

He makes it a step inside before reeling, and she reaches out to grab his arm, steady him. He leans into the touch, into her.

"Hey," she says carefully.

"H-hey, Gaila," he replies.

"How you feeling?" She guides them over to the bed. Jim puts his head between his legs and she runs her fingers over his back.

"Dizzy."

"It's normal."

"God, the air in here, it's…

He raises his head slowly to look at her. His eyes- his eyes are wide, pupils dilated. It's strange, how much that changes his face. She feels a little frisson of fear. It's okay, she tells herself. It's him. She runs her hand over his cheek to test and he leans into the contact again, making a noise that sounds like…

"Did you just whine at me?"

Jim does it again. It's definitely a whine. She laughs. The feel of it cheers her, but she stops herself at the lost look on Jim's face.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you."

"Gaila, please, I need…"

She glances down at his lap. He's already hard, just from her hand on his face. She runs a finger experimentally down the curve of his jaw, the soft swell of his lips. His tongue darts out to catch it and she can't help but smirk. This is your power, her mother said. This is your way.

"What do you need, Jimmy?"

"I need…please. I need to touch you." His voice is husky, and it sends a shot of heat straight down.

"Yeah, I think we can handle that, hmm?" She undoes her robe, lets it fall open. Her bra is the jack-up kind and if Jim were himself he'd tell her that her cleavage was out of control. She undoes the bra and tosses it aside, sucking in a breath as the warm, soft air hits her breasts.

He lifts his hand and hesitates for a moment, then reaches for her almost reverently. "God, you're so soft," he mutters. He runs a hand down her belly, under the waistband of her underwear. He looks up. "Please?"

She nods. "Yes."

She leans back on the bed, lifts her hips and shimmies. She's wet already, and Jim dips his hand down and runs a thumb over her. He rests his head on her belly and she feels his breath hot on her skin. Her hands tangle in his hair, guiding him down.

"Your mouth. I want your mouth."

He moans like it's the thing he wants most in the world, like she's just reminded him of it. "_Oh._ Okay, yeah, yes." He moves lower and then his breath is right there, and the first tentative swipe of his tongue makes her gasp.

Unbidden, her legs bend at the knee and move in to hold his head in place, her hands resting on Jim's head, and oh, he can't possibly stop this any time soon, because if he stops she'll die. She's suddenly very hot, aware of the little beads of sweat springing up under her arms, on her upper lip. Jim's tongue presses into her, up and around her clit, sucking just long enough to walk the knife-edge of too much and then dancing away down, down.

She can feel herself inching closer, and she knows that all it will take is her hand on her clit. She can almost feel herself doing it, and she rests her hand on the little dip between her hipbones, tantalizingly. But she isn't ready for this to be over yet.

"Jim, Jimmy. Come up here." She tugs a little on his hair. When he looks up, a bolt of _want_ shoots straight through her. His face is flushed and wet, hair mussed, and fuck but he's still in uniform.

"Take off your shirt." He does, and goes for his fly without being asked, tugs pants and underwear off in one go. He's fully hard and she loves the way his cock flushes the same deep rose as his face.

She hasn't even kissed him. "Come over here." She cups his face with both hands, kisses him on the mouth. She slips her tongue inside and tastes herself as she moans into his mouth. She wants him inside her.

She kneels lower on the bed, flips herself into her stomach, proffering her ass. She likes it best like this, hips hiked up so he can grab them and press himself in deep.

"God, Gaila, you…you're so…"

She's insinuated her hand between her body and the mattress, working it in slow circles, friction just right. Any faster and she's done. His voice is low and heavy with want; likewise she can feel the blood pooling between her legs and she needs him inside soon.

"What, Jim? What am I, tell me."

"You're so gorgeous like this, I…I don't know what…"

"What do you want?" She loves to hear it. For all his bluster, Jim is quiet during sex. She feels a little bad prompting him now, but lowered inhibitions ought to be good for something. "Tell me what you want."

"I…I want to fuck you. I want to make you come."

She arches up toward him, feeling the flex in her spine. "Do it, then."

He runs his hand over her ass, squeezing a little, then reaches for her hips. His fingers sink into the soft flesh there as his cock slides into her, just the head, and when he pauses she swivels her hips back and takes him in all the way. Her mouth falls open against the pillow. "Oh, oh," she gasps, grinding on her hand.

His hands are all over her, like he can't get enough of the feel of her. He scrapes fingernails over her back, leans in to press a kiss and a bite to her sweaty shoulder, tasting the salt there. Then his hands are back on her ass, dipping between her cheeks, his spit-slick thumb circling her hole and pressing tentatively inside. It magnifies everything, all the pleasure coursing through her electrified. She pushes back, skewering herself further. She feels like she's floating in liquid, like Jim's intoxication is drenching her by osmosis.

"Oh, yes," she gasps, "yes, please don't stop, don't…."

Her orgasm breaks like a wave. She feels it low in her belly, in her teeth, in her toes. Her cries seem to trip something in Jim, because he's bent over her now, hips working into her like a piston. She gives herself over to it completely, his thrusts sending little aftershocks through her body. He mutters nonsensically, Gaila isn't sure if it's even Standard, and then he's losing it, coming in time with his thrusts.

He slips out of her, collapses on her back. The charge in the air is gone, and Gaila wonders if Jim's orgasm has broken some sort of spell.

"Off," she croaks. "You're smushing me."

"Sorry." He rolls off her with a sigh, stretching out on his back. "Oh my god, I'm so hot."

She runs a hand over his forehead. "Computer, lower ambient temperature ten degrees."

Gaila looks into his face. His eyes are limpid again, and he's unmistakably Jim. She presses a kiss to his temple and lies beside him, close but not touching until the room cools. His hand finds hers, index finger trailing across her palm and tracing lines.

"So?" she asks.

"It was weird," Jim says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like being drunk but not, you know? And I couldn't…it was like I had to be touching you, touching you made it so much more intense." He grins. "That part was pretty great. And, god, I could _smell_ you, you smelled amazing…"

"I always smell amazing. Nyota says she wants to bottle me."

"I bet." He rolls into her, despite the heat. Her eyes are closed, but she knows he's smiling.


End file.
